


Forgotten Treasures

by amminyard



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: America finds gifts from England, America goes looking through old storage, America really does love England, And England loves America, Fluff, He finds tons of memories, It just took three centuries to figure it out, M/M, USUK - Freeform, USUK fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-25
Updated: 2014-01-25
Packaged: 2018-01-09 22:57:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1151808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amminyard/pseuds/amminyard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>America goes sorting through all of his old things. USUK.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgotten Treasures

_England. England. England._

_Britain. Britain. Britain._

_Kirkland. Kirkland. Kirkland._

_Arthur. Arthur. Arthur._

America began to change up the names in his head. After centuries of letting things collect dust, he finally decided to look through his storage. To make it slightly more bearable, he had decided to name someone each item reminded him of.

_England. England. England._

He found his army jacket.

 

_He had whined and whined and whined. “Please, England? I want to be just like you.” England would always protest, but he couldn’t hide his smile._

_“America, you don’t want to be like me. You should be yourself.” America always giggled at that. England would then pick him up and they’d have cookies—“No, no, no, America. Biscuits,”—and the whole conversation would be forgotten for a month or so._

_But they would always come back to that topic until finally England announced that he had a surprise for America._

_“You must close your eyes while I go get it, America.” England walked off and then quickly hurried back to remind the boy, “No peeking!” which he had obviously been doing; he was American after all. He couldn’t_ not _peek._

_But it was worth his impatience when England came back in with an army jacket in hand. It was green, with gorgeous gilded buttons and everything America could ever dream of. He had never been so happy. He wore the suit as much as he could. It soon became a second skin. He was just like England._

_Just like England_ , the now-grown country scoffed. He was nothing like that stuffy old man. _I am much more awesome_ , he thought as he swiftly buttoned his jacket. _I remember when England taught me the quickest way to button. That was a skill that took forever to master. England demanded I do it perfectly every time—Snap out of it, America!_ He shook his head slightly, put the suit in the “keep” pile and moved on.

 

He threw out a few wrecked-beyond-repair objects before finally finding something worth salvaging.

_Britain. Britain. Britain._

He pulled out a diary written in England’s elegant penmanship. Every entry was full of firsts. All of them were firsts of his own. He flipped the diary open. On the first page was an entry about the first time America saw his room at England’s place. He didn’t read the entry, as his own memories came flooding back.

 

_The first thing that he got when he came home with England was his own bedroom. He had never had one before, and this one seemed absolutely magical. In retrospect, it wasn’t insanely extravagant, though it wasn’t completely plain either. There were portraits hanging on the walls of the Knights of the Round Table. Gwaine, Percival, Elyan, Leon, and Tristan hung on the three walls surrounding his bed. The wall opposite held Arthur Pendragon himself, next to the great wizard Merlin and Sir Lancelot. The knights all held magnificent shields and swords. Merlin’s eyes glowed with magic. But the most majestic thing in all of the room was the great Excalibur._

_As he examined every inch of the room, every spot of paint on each portrait, every small detail, he kept heading back to the mythical weapon. After having studied it at least four times, he ran back to England and gave him a hug. The older country smiled, chuckled, and hugged back until America decided to let go._

_Their journey had been quite a long one, and England told the small boy to get ready for bed as soon as he had pulled away. The small boy did as he was told (a rare sight to see nowadays) and asked England to tell him a bedtime story about the pictures on the walls._

_England spun a magical tale of knights, honor, and magic. He spoke of the legendary Arthur Pendragon, the once and future king. He spoke of the adventures of the Knights of the Round Table, of love and loss, trust and betrayal. He spoke of heroics and courage. He told America he could be a hero like Arthur one day. America held on to that notion for centuries to come._

He slammed the book closed, throwing it into the keep pile without thinking.

He continued to rummage.

_Kirkland. Kirkland. Kirkland._

The next thing he pulled out was a book as well.

 

_“I have a present for you, America.” America perked up from behind his desk where he was currently finishing a bit of schoolwork._

_England knelt down beside the boy, handing him a plain book with gold lettering across the front. England chuckled as the younger country sighed._

_“England, I thought you said you had a present for me! Not a book!”_

_“Read the print, America.”_

_America looked down and read the title before breaking into a smile. “It’s about the Knights of the Round Table! You’re the best, England!”_

_He simply said, “You’re welcome, America,” before leaving the room._

_It wasn’t until years later that America realized what had been written in on the very last page._

**_My Dear America,_ **

_**I hope you enjoyed the book. I know how much you love King Arthur and his knights. Courage, honour, and loyalty will make you just as capable as the noblest of knights. And you have more courage, honour, and loyalty than the whole bunch of them. A hero like you is much more than any of those knights.**_

**_I hope you treasure this book and all of the stories in it. That’s history, my boy. You’ll make history like this one day, lad. You’ll make Arthur proud._ **

**_England_ **

 

He found the letter after the Revolutionary War. _I bet England didn’t think I was quite so loyal then,_ he thought. _I hope he knows I’m loyal now. I’m a hero like King Arthur and all of his noble knights. And heroes don’t let down those they care about_.

 

And that’s how America ended up at England’s house at stupid o’clock in the morning, leaving the rest of his forgotten memories untouched and coated in dust.

_Arthur. Arthur. Arthur._

He smiled as England answered the door, looking surprised and grumpy. “America, what exactly are you doing here at this bloody hour?”

He offered no response, just holding out the old book with the fancy golden lettering and beautiful blue binding. Upon England’s look of confusion, he told the older country to flip to the last page. A faint recognition seemed to come over England’s features and his eyebrows lowered as he flipped to the last page.

 

**_My Dear England,_ **

**_Centuries have gone by since you gave me this book. All of those years, and I didn’t see the letter until the days right after the revolution and I quickly hid the book away, the memories of times with you being too painful to bear. Going through my attic has led me to find countless objects that reminded me of you. I found my old army green jacket and your diary you kept of my firsts. So I sat down to write this letter and I’ve been working on it for hours on end to make it perfect._ **

**_Loyalty, courage, and honor. That’s what I needed to be a knight and a hero. That’s what I needed to make Arthur proud. I have courage. I hope I at least have some honor. The thing I need to prove is my loyalty. You probably think my loyalty to you is nil, considering the revolution. But my loyalty to you is as strong as ever. My loyalty is strongest to the country who raised me and taught me about heroes and values. My loyalty is to the one who I saw go through hell during the Blitz and still came out fighting. I saw you exhausted and at your weakest, yet you were stronger than ever. Courage. Loyalty. Honor. You had all of those things in ways King Arthur could never imagine._ **

**_You said courage and loyalty and honor would help me make Arthur proud. But King Arthur is not the Arthur I worry about making proud._ **

**_Yours,_ **

**_America_ **

 

England looked up and cracked one of his rare smiles, the kind that dazzled you and made you wonder why he didn’t smile more often. England was beautiful when he smiled. He smiled at America like he used to before things got so complicated. America smiled back. And they smiled at each other until their faces hurt. Neither knew exactly who leaned in first, but their lips met in a chaste kiss, America’s arms wrapping around England’s waist and England’s hands going up to America’s shoulders. They broke apart fairly quickly, smiles never leaving their faces.

“You’ve always made me proud, America. The revolution never changed how I felt for you.”

America just smiled again, pulling England back in for another kiss.

_Courage. Loyalty. Honor._

_England. England. England._

_Britain. Britain. Britain._

_Kirkland. Kirkland. Kirkland._

_Arthur. Arthur. Arthur._

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr @amminyard


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